


Corvo x Garrett Tumblr Prompts

by Ledaeus



Category: Dishonored (Video Games), Thief (Video Game 2014), Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 23:26:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18062228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ledaeus/pseuds/Ledaeus
Summary: A set of fluff/angst Corvett Tumblr prompts!Does what it says on the tin. Fluffy AF.





	Corvo x Garrett Tumblr Prompts

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt meme [here](http://ledaeus.tumblr.com/post/183354875970/angstfluff-prompt-list-mvps)
> 
> Requested by [Sardine](https://not-a-single-sardine.tumblr.com/):  
> "49 and 62 for modern au corvett 👀"  
>  **49:** "You’re a terrible liar.”  
>  **62:** "Here take my sweater.”
> 
> If you want a prompt writing, comment it here or send me an ask on [Tumblr!](https://ledaeus.tumblr.com/)

Corvo hasn’t heard from Garrett in two days. It’s not unheard of for him to drop off the grid for hours at a time - sometimes he gets so involved in his work that he simply forgets to respond to texts and calls, sometimes Garrett even forgets to respond to in-person conversations if he’s particularly engrossed in whatever he’s up to, but it’s the middle of January and Corvo is worried.

Maybe he just forgot to charge his phone.

It’s freezing outside. The snow falls heavy in thick white clumps and sticks to everything then melts and makes it all wet and slippery. It falls into his lashes and his hair and melts, then drips into his eyes and freezes his hands into blocks of ice. It makes locking up the house and opening the car door difficult as his numbed hands fumble with tricky keys and locks. It makes the roads treacherous and dangerous, and he’s had experiences with crashes enough to make him nervous and reluctant to drive.

But he does it. Because he’s worried.

When he gets in the car, he turns the heater on, warms himself for a moment, waits for the fog to disappear from the windscreen, and then sets off. The roads have been turned to slush, and for all the grit laid on the tarmac by the council, the snow still falls on top of it. The wheels slip as he accelerates, so he changes to a higher gear and pushes on.

It’s only a ten-minute drive to Garrett’s place but it takes thirty through the weather. The block of flats changes from a dull grey smudge to an imposing, brutalist tower. Corvo parks up, locks the car, and works his way to the front door. Garrett has already given him a key to the place and told him the code to the complex door, so he lets himself in, kicks the snow off his boots, and works his way up the stairs. Garrett lives on the seventeenth floor, but the lift’s broken and has been for weeks, so they just have to make do. Corvo doesn’t really blame Garrett for not leaving often.

He knocks once, then enters Garrett’s flat.

It’s freezing.

It almost feels colder in here than it is outside.

Corvo shivers and then pulls off his boots so he doesn’t traipse any residual water or dirt into the house and rounds the corner, calling out. No response. Maybe Garrett is out. A knot of worry settles in his stomach. It’s so dark in here.

He finds Garrett curled up on the couch, wrapped up in all the blankets he owns, eyes wide, tapping away on a laptop. He takes a moment to register that Corvo’s there, and it takes a moment for him to look up, and for his eyes to go from glassy and vacant to clear in recognition.

“You haven’t been returning my texts,” Corvo says, vaguely annoyed, thinking of how worried he’s been, “You forgot to charge your phone?”

Garrett tilts his head, then sits up straight and looks around. He digs down the side of the couch, down below however many layers of blankets he’s wearing, and pulls out his old, battered flip-phone, presses a button. It lights up, and he takes a moment to read the display as Corvo stands there awkwardly, toying with his gloves.

“How many messages have you missed, Garrett?”

Garrett looks sheepish. “Seventeen. And five calls. I’ve been busy.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Corvo says, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to Garrett, “Your lips are blue. Why isn’t the heating on?”

It’s true. Garrett’s as pale as ever, and Corvo notices as he puts the phone away, the chipped black polish reveals purple nails and mottled hands. What’s worse is that he’s shivering.

“I’m not cold.”

That is the most transparent lie Corvo’s ever heard. In his life. Ever. Corvo himself is cold and he’s wrapped up in six different layers of clothing.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Corvo sounds utterly unimpressed and Garrett doesn’t respond, returning to his code. “What’s been going on?”

“Nothing’s been going on,” Garrett says, “I’ve not been cold so I haven’t put the heating on.”

“You’re shivering. Can I at least put it on if I’m cold?” He stands up, pushes the chair back, and makes for the boiler housed in a cupboard on the other side of the room. Garrett flinches and tries to get up, calls out in swift denial, and Corvo stops. Turns. Crosses his arms across his chest and looks wholly unimpressed.

“Please.”

There’s a moment of silence as Garrett sits there with his arm outstretched and Corvo watches him. He doesn’t like being lied to, and Garrett knows this. He’s warned him against it in the past.

“Why are you lying to me?” Corvo says, and makes his way back over towards the couch, sits down on the limited space left, and takes Garrett’s hand in his own. It’s cold as ice. He rubs them and waits for Garrett to work his way up to a response. Corvo has his suspicions, but he wants to hear it from the horse’s mouth.

“I couldn’t pay the gas. The heating’s been shut off.”

“And how long’s it been?”

Garrett looks away, at a spot on the opposite wall that suddenly looks very interesting. He emits a sad whine, then looks down at his lap. “Two days.”

“Two days?!” Corvo exclaims, shocked. Garrett tends to let things slide when he shouldn’t, but this is excessive, even for him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Garrett shrugs and stumbles with his words, embarrassed, “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I would be much less worried if you just told me when something was up rather than suffering for two days because of it.” A thought crosses Corvo’s mind. If Garrett wasn’t able to pay the gas, then could he cover food? “Have you been eating? Don’t lie to me this time, please.”

Another extended silence, and Corvo knows the answer. He goes to the kitchen cupboards and opens them and finds nothing. The fridge yields the same result - he has a bottle of mustard and a mouldy potato. He keeps telling Garrett to throw that damn thing out.

“Pack up your stuff, I’m taking you back to my place while we get this sorted,” Corvo says, then takes his coat and then his jumper off, and holds it out to Garrett, who’s wearing only a hoodie and a pair of jeans, “Take my sweater. We’ll warm you up when we get to the car.”

Garrett opens his mouth to complain, but Corvo holds up a finger. He’s tired of this, he’s tired of Garrett violently resisting any form of help offered to him, so he doesn’t give him a chance. He helps him pack up his laptop and charger, then they lock up and go back to the car.

Garrett spends most of the journey in silence, watching the snow whip past the window as Corvo struggles yet again with the car. They arrive safely back at the house, and Garrett sets himself up with more blankets on the couch in front of the fire. Corvo brings him a hot drink, then leaves to get changed out of his wet clothes.

When he returns, Garrett’s fallen asleep, the laptop has been set aside forgotten, and the cat’s curled up on top of him.


End file.
